Sinister
by Victorious Emu
Summary: [ Latchkey Kingdom fanfiction ] The first method for estimating the intelligence of a ruler is to look at the men she has around her. But there are three kinds of intelligence: one kind understands others, the other appreciates what others can understand, the third understands neither. The princess' new project may fall short of either category or just kill everyone.
1. Chapter 1 - Poison

**Sinister**

This is a work of fan fiction using characters from the Latchkey Kingdom comic, which is copyrighted by Nick Daniel.

 **Chapter 1: Poison**

Despite all its hidden treasures The Kingdom of Hilla is a rotten place to try to hide anything of value. Over the years kings, cultists, doomsday-preppers and forbidden-lovers have tried to make use of its countless dungeons, lost temples and dark caverns to hide everything from love nests to gold booty; only to never see their property again. Because eventually, when you aren't looking, a dungeon rat, a creature of the depths, or a nosy adventurer will take it all to parts unknown.

The only objects with any chance to last down underground have to be carved out of the bedrock or bolted down. All this, ironically, also make the subterranean mazes very good places to hide what you do so nobody ever finds any evidence.

In one of these subterranean mazes, not far underneath one of the town's streets, there is a war room carved from the bedrock. In the middle of this room there is a long rectangular stone table, surrounded by a dozen chairs. It is a secret rally point intended to let desperate soldiers plan a last ditch rescue of The Kingdom if it is ever invaded, or just to figure out the best escape route. Tonight this room is poorly illuminated by candle light and a burning kiln in which charcoals glow.

Only the chair at the head of the table is in use, with its occupant staring at the myriad of sharp instruments and strange objects laid on top of the table. The only other dweller of this room is walking slowly around the stone furniture, his glee is obvious as he drags his finger along the edge of the stone. There is a bounce to his hanging tongue.

Mr. Embalmer takes a deep breathe to reign in his childish glee and lifts a small tin box full of pale green mushrooms from the table. "These," he says with pride a he tilts the box's contents into a large bowl, "are æməˈnaɪtə mushrooms. Their poison is slow to manifest and their taste no different from boring regular mushrooms. They also kill slowly, with 'life' leaking out of the diner." He pauses, chewing the inside of his mouth as he ponders something before continuing. "And by 'life' I mean they cause a lethal case of the runs."

His large paws move swiftly to grab long tailor scissors and leafy stalks of a vibrant-red hue. "The _dērelinquōtercera graveolens_ plants found in swamps are much quicker if you are in a hurry to see results. Their sap burns on contact and causes internal swelling. By clogging the throat they prevent any calls for help." Slowly Embalmer closes the scissor bales around the plants, making a show of letting the sap drip down into the bowl before he swiftly finishes cutting the plant into small chunks.

In one fluid motion he tosses the scissors aside and snatches a seemingly perfectly normal fruit from a wicker basket. "This, is just an orange." He tosses the fruit high into the air and then catches it behind his back with his other hand, presenting it again with a flourish of his wrist. "Grown in the glowing marshlands of the metal lands. The orange is contaminated by cursed ground and causes internal bleeding. The only telltale of the poison is that juice glows a pretty green in the dark." His claws effortlessly peel the fruit and drop the juicy slices into the bowl.

"And finally," his voice gets louder as he grabs the the bowl of sundry poisonous plants and a larger bowl of leafy greens, raising his elbows to his sides as he mixes it all into the larger bowl, "the lettuce. For texture and to make it more filling."

He divides the salad between two plates and then places one in front of the sitting figure. "This should hold us over until the pufferfish is done roasting. Or send us under if I got the doses wrong." He winks his large milky eye. " _Bon Appétit_!"

His guest raises her two hands in front of her face and claps animatedly. "Oh, Mister Embalmer, you spoil me with this rich feast!"

Embalmer's toothy smile couldn't be wider as he bows like an actor on stage. "I'll be richer when you get my bill for all this."

Princess Rosaline waves her hand dismissively. "Oh hush, gold is easy to obtain. Good poisons, now these are rarer. Why, The Witch has no variety at all in her tower! She claims that most of the potions she owns are beneficial and foster health. She just makes it impossible to foster a healthy poison tolerance."

The larger yuman closes his eyes and shakes his head. "No love for poisoncraft these days."

"But still, Miss Blackheart does a very fine job of keeping Captain Kenner distracted. But enough of what," well manicured nails point to her dinner host, "please take a seat."

Embalmer takes his own salad plate and turns to head for the other end of the table when a curt 'Ahem!' makes him stop. He turns to find Princess Rosaline staring at him with a raised eyebrow, her mood has quickly changed to disapproval. "Not at the head of the table, Mister Embalmer. I know you are bold but there is a limit. Tonight I want to discuss business, we should keep it proper. Sit here." Her finger tips sharply tap the setting immediately to her left, twice.

Equal parts chastised and confused, he does as she instructs and quickly drops into the stone chair to her left. "Right, my proper seat is... to your leeeft?" His head tilts to the side, seeking confirmation.

And just as quickly the golden haired princess is all smiles again. "Indeed! And that is a matter I wanted to discuss with you tonight." Without even having to a second look she is able to select one of the seven silver forks around her plate, the one for salad. She uses it to vaguely point at Embalmer's bloody clothes. "Embalmer, dear, have you considered your long term career as a henchman?"

Taken aback, it takes long time for the gray creature to formulate an answer. The gears inside his mind crunch at the issue for a full minute before he responds. "Nope." He follows her example and grabs some silverwear too, a steak knife, and stabs some morsels from his plate.

Rosaline nods knowingly, as if she had expected that answer. She spears her own salad much more delicately but waits until they have taken a few bites before continuing the conversation."A man of your nefarious skills and commitment to unscrupulous work shouldn't be wasted on the private sector, Embalmer. You are a prime candidate for government work".

Embalmer recoiled away as if she had just slapped him, bending away as far as the chair would let him. "No! Government work is boring busywork. Signing papers, shaking hands and ass kissing." He eyed the room's exit, preparing to bolt. "I do not want to be a-"

"MISTER EMBALMER!" Lighting quick the princess' left hand grabs his wrist and holds it to the table. Had he actually tried to pull away Embalmer would have found her grip to be very, very firm.

His great jaw snapped shut with an audible clack, his attention now returning to her "Yes, Princess?"

Rosaline's tone is mater-of-fact. "You can rest assured that I do not want you doing any signing or shaking hands. There will always be enough bureaucrats and diplomats for that. When I take the crown what I will need is somebody who can reach where I cannot directly interfere." Embalmer opens his mouth to speak, but the princess continues before he can get a word out. "I will govern fairly. I will find a good right hand man or woman," The princes waves vaguely towards the empty seat to her right, "to take care of all the legislative work and I will have a good left hand man," she squeezes his wrist again, "to end problems and seed chaos where I need it. The obligatory pruning of disloyal aristocrats, persuasively asking questions and handling the cases of my enemies mysteriously disappearing. THAT is what I believe you are uniquely qualified for."

Embalmer let out a great sigh of relief and relaxed again, hunching forward, and the princess finally let go of his wrist. "So if you want me as your left hand man, that would make me your Sinister Man? Get it, left?" Another exaggerated wink, and it took a beat for the bad pun to be understood, but soon both were raucously laughing.

With her laughter is back under control the golden girl slaps Embalmer's hand playfully. "Oh you will be great as a Sinister Man, Embalmer. I can scarcely imagine how much fun we will have; for the good of the realm of course. I really want to show you the palace's torture devices and my poisonatorium!"

"Oh, I had an aunt who let me play in hers. That does sound like loads of fun. So, where do I sign?'

"You are not qualified." Rosaline said, in a deadpan tone.

Embalmer's head tilted again, his tongue poking from the other side of his mouth. "But didn't you just..."

The golden girl pushed her nearly empty salad plate aside and crossed her fingers in front of her face, forming a small triangle. "Yes I am aware that you have all the talent, charisma, ethics and resourcefulness that the position requires, but you will also need to blend in among the aristocrats and merchants of the capital as well as you blend in with the rabble of these backwoods. The secret society handshakes, the right clothes, the right topics of small talk, all the formalities. All of that part of the subterfuge so nobody questions why I want you nearby. But don't worry, dear, I am an excellent mentor and you will be up to speed in no time. Even fine daggers require some polish." The princess paused for a moment, narrowing her eyes. "Lesson one, when hosting an event with royalty in attendance: Don't burn the fish."

The gray creature's nose flared as he noisily smelled the air, catching the smell of burnt fish. He dashed off the chair and towards the kiln to try and save what was left of the main dish. Princess Rosaline didn't move from her contemplative pose, but a smile grew on her face as she watched Embalmer move. She bit her lower lip so hard that a tiny droplet of blood ran down her chin.

 **End of Chapter.**

Please read and review. Criticism is welcome, especially this early in the story as I try to nail the characterization.

Updates will happen as time permits and if there is interest in this story.


	2. Chapter 2 - Cloak

**Sinister**

This is a work of fan fiction using characters from the Latchkey Kingdom comic, which is copyrighted by Nick Daniel.

 **Chapter 2: Cloak**

Regular citizens who deal with adventurers soon learn that there's too many adventurers, too many crazy people, making too many problems. This is why merchants, blacksmiths, bakers and every respectable person who has to do business with them develops the skill of mostly ignoring them. These business-people trying to earn a living do their very best to avoid getting involved with adventurers unless money is to be exchanged immediately. This Not-Problem-Cognizant-Philosophy is the backbone of adventurer-based economy.

Faren the tailor was one of these reliable entrepreneurs. She didn't sell the kind of practical gear that would have put her in competition with the Hilla Treasure Co. shop, and its intimidating proprietor, but her own shop did attract the occasional adventurer who wanted to accessorize with impractical gear or dress their Sunday best. More often than not her clientele were completely typical people, but she was good at dealing with the inevitable strange characters visiting her store. She was hardly ever surprised anymore by what adventurers may come in dressed as or intending to walk out looking as.

So she was nonplussed when the bell above her door rang and in came a shoe-less strange drifter wearing a ratty hood and dirty clothes. She was a lot more interested in who the creature held the door for. The famous Princess Rosaline Lanistark I of Angelon had never visited her shop before. The girl was wearing a red velvet hood and dark sunglasses (Genuine Oliver Goldsmith Laghattans!), but there was no way to misidentify that golden hair and immaculately-tailored dress.

The poorly disguised princess was smiling as she passed the shabbily dressed man holding the door for her, but as she advanced into the middle of the shop her expression became passive. Rosaline stood there and scanned the shop as if its proprietor was merely part of the decor. Faren held her breath until the princess nodded to herself. The shop had passed muster.

The older woman immediately made her way around the counter and moved to greet the -rich- client. "Good evening, Ma'am. How may I help you today?"

The princess discarded her sunglasses and pulled down her hood quickly. The air around her sparkled as she ruffled her golden locks free. It may have been meant to look like magic, but it was evidently an expensive trick. The tailor had to keep her own jaw from dropping at the shameless squander of gold dust. Faren decided she would sweep the shop very carefully once the princess left.

Finally deigning to acknowledge shop owner, the princess spoke, "Good evening, Tailor. It is my understanding that you provide your wares to the Clan Hilla and their immediate staff. Is that so?"

Faren nodded a bit too enthusiastically. "You are correct, ma'am! I pride myself in having the Hillian Royal family, Chancellor Harbottle Stonegrave, and Svanhildur Blackheart as my clients." She omitted mentioning that as the only true tailor in Hilla her many clients didn't have other options for mending their well-worn wardrobes when professional hands were required.

The princess pointed to someplace to the other side of the shop, the winter clothes section, and Faren finally noticed that the shabbily dressed man had managed to cross the entire shop while she had been distracted by the other woman's decorative dandruff. "You can provide my pupil a new wardrobe. He is to prepare for a new job and his current attire falls short of the requirements for the post."

The tailor turned her her professional eyes to study the figure of her true client as he entertained himself by wrapping one of Faren's delicate spider-silk scarves around his arm. Medium build, digitigrade legs, a head the size of an anvil, and with a wide neck to match. And that was only what she could see with that ratty hood and cloak he was wearing. He had to be some kind of hound walking on his back legs. Definitely outside the usual, hounds rarely wore more than a few accessories, but making regular clothes fit him would be possible with a lot of custom -expensive- fitting. The older woman assumed the princess would have be acting as interpreter for the man, and pay for everything. "Congratulations! I am sure we can find the perfect apparel for him. What is this new job?"

Rosaline tapped her lips with her index finger. Half lost in thought. "Oh, I have not decided yet. Maybe Marquis or chancellor, perhaps a wealthy merchant." the princess couldn't have have said that more casually. "Let us set the bar low at brilliant music teacher and work our way up from there."

Years of experience had taught Faren when best to not seek any clarification and let some things remain a mystery. "Of course! I keep a collection of imported fabrics perfect for any occasion. First we can try to find a style that suits him from my stock." The lag unfurled her measuring tape and moved out towards the full length mirror by the wall. "Sir, please let me take your measurements."

The gray man looked towards the princes first, for a small gesture of her head, before he actually did as asked. Now that Faren was awarding him her full attention she realized just why she hadn't noticed him cross her store, his gait was fast but eerily quiet with his unshod feet. The way he seemed to lunge with every step would have much more intimidating if she hadn't just witnessed him being so deferential to the princess.

Embalmer stood in front of the mirror and without any prompting raised his arms, pulling his cloak taut like tattered bat wings. That the thing didn't shred at once told Faren that the material had been made from good materials and sewn well. A fine cloak, once upon a time. "Ah. Please take off that cloak, if you please."

He once again sought approval on the request from the young princess, but at that point she had already turned and was browsing the clothes racks on her own. With a heavy sigh Embalmer undid the bow holding his hood and let the whole thing fall carelessly to the floor.

Faren stepped back and reevaluated how dangerous the man before her was, regardless of how much deference he displayed for the princess or the cute hanging tongue. She pointed to a small table nearby. "Err. Sir, could you set all your weapons and... whatever those are... on the table?"

The request caused an even heavier sigh but he proceeded to lay on the table the blades, flasks, rusty corkscrews, and strange objects he had strapped to his back. When he stood in front of the mirror again and raised his arms Faren had the distinct impression that his gloomy silver eyes were looking at her just waiting for more requests. Happily for both, there wasn't anything else actually in the way of measuring the man anymore. Even more happily for the tailor, the gray man wasn't as unkempt as his clothes. She didn't have to hold her breath as she worked the tape around the man's limbs unlike with some of her other clients.

As she wrote down the man's measurements she was happily back into her comfortable routine. Which of course meant that it was at that moment that the princess raised her voice and asked. "Does that say MOM?"

The princess had returned with arm fulls of garments and accessories, a good part of the shop's inventory, but she was actually squinting at something on her companion's shoulder. Faren looked at the same spot and at first didn't know what the princess meant. It wasn't until she tilted her head a bit that she realized what she was looking at. Some of the small scars on the man's shoulder, under his short messy fur, formed a very crude carving of a heart with the word 'MOM' inside it.

For the first time the man spoke, and the tailor nearly had a heart attack. Evidently he could speak Inglish just fine. "Oh yes! I got the first 'M' and half the 'O' by pure chance the first time I ran through a window! Seemed a shame not to complete the design!" Embalmer turned to look at Faren straight in the eye. She decided that nothing with a jaw that big should be capable of smiling so widely. Embalmer tapped one of his other -many- scars "I do all my own sewing too, see?"

The princess walked right up to the man and placed her face not one inch from his disfigured shoulder"Mister Embalmer that is the most heart warming tokens of filial love I have ever seen. And objet trouvé! It truly brings a tear to my eye." The girl was being literal, and she had to wipe the corner of her eye with her sleeve.

The whole scene had the tailor seriously consider fleeing out of her own shop but before she could make the decision the princess thrust her bundle of clothes into Faren's arms. "Here," the princess said as she separated a frilly ruffled white shirt from the pile and passed it to Embalmer, "we will try florid artistic decadence first."

The man took the proffered shirt and quickly pulled it on without taking off his original shirt. The tailor bit her tongue when she heard the stitches pop as he began buttoning up. However no amount of flexing could get a garment made for poets and svelte pirates to button all the way. Giving up, Embalmer left the top buttons open and took the pose that he assumed matched the shirt: With his knuckles pressed against his waist and his eyes looking up and towards nothingness. The sight would completely ruin romantic romance covers for Faren from that day on.

"Hmm." The princess walked a full circle around her model. "Embalmer, dear, how developed are your musical talents?"

Looking back to the girl the gray man extended both index fingers and began to wave them in the air. "On the piano I can play the one song about the spider or the one about the boat."

"Right," the princess grabbed a thick burgundy coat with a white fur edges from the pile, "We can consider testing your musical skills at a later point but that look is a bit too blackguard to remain unnoticed. Take that off and lets see how you look as a merchant."

Embalmer nodded and took off the shirt quickly, one of the buttons bounced against the mirror and went flying to parts unknown, and dropped it on top of his discarded coat. The coat fit him much more loosely, as it was prepared for a fat cat, and he could comfortably wrap it around himself. He squirmed his head delightedly as the white fur trim tickled him.

The princess looked unconvinced. "There is something missing..." The princess glanced between the pile of clothes in Faren's arms and the costumed man, suddenly brightening as inspiration struck her. With no warning she pulled Faren's glasses off her face and tried them on Embalmer's. They didn't fit his larger head so she just left them resting atop his large muzzle. "Excellent! Now, what can you tell me about financing and economic theory?"

The man closed his eyes and began to recite as if he was reading a script off the back of his eyelids. "Capital is reckless of the health or length of life of the laborer, unless under compulsion from society. Let the ruling classes tremble at a communist revolution! The proletarians have nothing to-" The princess lunged forward and forcibly shut the man's jaw closed. Like the button Faren's glasses were sent carelessly flying away.

"Mister Embalmer! What- Wherever did you hear that filth?!"

Visibly chastised the man leaned back but didn't attempt to pry free of the girl's hold. He tried to speak from the side of his mouth. "Wrison."

"Right, that is where those fantasies belong." The princess let go of Embalmer's muzzle and scratched the underside of his jaw. "You are never to repeat any of that ever, ever, again. Are we clear?"

His hanging tongue visibly wiggled as she scratched. "Okay!"

"Good. Now lets see you in a role where you only have to repeat what I say." Down to the floor went the burgundy coat and out from the pile came a long black robe with wide triangular collar.

Even without her glasses the tailor could see what it was. "Ma'am! There must have been a- misunderstanding! That robe belongs to Chancellor Stonegrave. I am only keeping it for repairs."

The princess shrugged as she helped Embalmer insert his arms into the garment. "Obviously, it was behind your counter. We just need to see if it is a style befitting my pupil"

Through the years Faren's store had been robbed a handful of times, suffered a few minor fires, and she had to negotiate the sale of clothing to downright evil characters. Never before had she felt more helpless than in this absurd situation between the strange gray vagrant and the indifferent golden princess.

With a mighty pull Embalmer and Rosaline attempted to shove his enormous head through the collar of the robe. The fabric tore clean from the neck all the way down his chest. Both smiled as if everything had worked as intended. Faren buried her face in the pile of clothes and muffled a scream.

 **End of Chapter.**

Please read and review. Criticism is welcome, especially this early in the story as I try to nail the characterization.

Updates will happen as time permits and if there is interest in this story.


	3. Chapter 3 - Torture

**Sinister**

This is a work of fan fiction using characters from the Latchkey Kingdom comic, which is copyrighted by Nick Daniel.

 **Chapter 3: Torture**

Captain Joseph Kenner did not skip. Captain Joseph Kenner marched. He moved with purpose and dignity. The spring of his step as he headed towards Hilla Castle's witch tower could therefore be considered 'double time' march. His cheerful humming and far-away smile had no soldierly nickname to hide behind.

He was in a great mood with plans to make his day even better. He passed by an open window and he could see a wide open blue sky, hear the birds sing and see kids playing down below in the cobblestone yard. A lovely morning. Just as he was about to move on his brain registered what was missing from the picture and his humming stopped. He paused and looked once again towards the yard. He could see green, black, white, and even blue fur down there. But no yellow. One of the kids was not with the usual darling group of rascals, and it was the one he was dutifully bound to actually care about.

The princess wasn't always with the other kids of course, she had an independent streak and would often spend her time having fun on her own or studying. Kenner would just have to check where the princess was and then he could be on his way to meet with Svana. Just a short delay.

* * *

One hour later Captain Joseph Kenner was stomping up and down the castle. He had already searched the princes' rooms and interrogated the castle's staff. The only one to have seen the princess recently was the chef, from whom she had taken a bowl full of grapes before absconding to who-knows-where.

His options were now dwindled to searching for her outside the castle or asking people he didn't want to know about his lapsed guardianship. Chief among the people he didn't want to question was the one person who could track her easily. And if he hadn't made previous plans with Svana he would have rather started searching a swamp while wearing full armor.

Of course Kenner found that person very easily. Kenner had learned to avoid the handful of spots Marshal Rex Vunderdog chose to laze about in when guarding the castle. On this particular day he was to be found sprawled on a chair in the castle's main foyer, his nose buried in a raunchy book. Kenner made sure to make his boot heels click as he approached, but the hound didn't glance up from his book. Only the marshal's pet bird faced him.

Kenner cleared his throat and went straight to the point, "Marshal, have you seen Princess Rosaline?"

Rex flipped to the next page of his book, but his bird did finally speak. "And a good morning to you too, Kenny boy. Say, wouldn't you rather know where to find Svana? She will appreciate all that cologne you are wearing a lot more."

The captain resisted the temptation of kicking the chair over, "Rex, do you know where Rosaline is or not?"

"Of course I do. It is my job to know where everyone is in this castle. I wouldn't be a good guardian of if I didn't know that much."

The captain ignored the barb against his own job and relaxed just a bit knowing that the princess was indeed within the castle walls, "Well, where is she?"

Another page flipped, "Right under your nose." Rex said nonchalantly.

"Alright, enough with the games. What do you want?"

That made the hound close his book and look at Kenner, "You take care of tomorrow's night watch."

"Deal." Kenner and Rex shook hands, once, before the hound climbed down from his chair. Rex began to trot away and Kenner followed. The captain grunted to himself when he saw they were heading downstairs towards the dungeon. He recalled the 'under your nose' joke and decided it really wasn't funny even in context.

It wasn't until they were almost all the way down that Rex started growling and his bird spoke again, both their voices too loud for the cramped passage. "Really, Captain Kenner, there is no need for you to go chasing after Princess Rosaline all the time. If you don't give her some room to make small mistakes she is bound to get involved in more severe problems, Captain Kenner."

"One of Rosaline's small mistakes, so far, has been the attempted murder of her parents. If I give her a longer leash she may start a war."

If Rex noticed the reference to leashes as an intentional slight, a response to his barb about Kenner's job, he didn't react. Instead he paused in front of the dungeon's thick door and motioned towards Kenner. The bird's voice was still cheery and loud. "After you, Captain Kenner!"

Kenner looked between the door and Rex one more time before pushing it open. "And just why is Rosaline down here in..." the captain never finished that question for he suddenly had many new horrible questions of his own.

The first thing he saw when he entered was the the bedraggled man shacked to the wall, upside down. Next to him stood the princess, staring at Kenner slightly peeved but not surprised in the slightest by their arrival. On her left hand she held an open book and on her right her horse riding crop. Kenner offered a quick prayer to Lapak to thank him for the fact that both of the dungeon occupants were fully clothed. And there was the bowl of grapes, resting on a bench.

Embalmer was the first to speak, waving his shackled hand a little. "Hey, Captain! Marshal! Does this mean our time is up? Can I get down now?"

Rex yawned once, filling his lungs deeply, before answering the question, "Nah, it is barely noon. Her payment is good for a few more hours."

Kenner opened and closed his mouth a few times before he could speak again. His hand was now resting on the pommel of his sheathed sword. "Princess Rosaline, just what the hekk is going on here?"

The princess looked at all three men with a raised eyebrow. Then she tapped the book she was holding with the riding crop. "I am lecturing Mister Embalmer on realpolitik."

The captain closed his eyes and nodded. "Right, lecturing... Here in the dungeon?"

The princess used the riding crop to point to the shackles around embalmer's ankles. "This castle is woefully short of equipment to hold someone upside down."

Kenner lifted his sword half an inch out of its sheath and let it drop again. The dull thud was comforting to him. "And you needed to hang Mister Embalmer upside down to lecture him on real politics-"

"Realpolitik." The princess corrected him.

"Realpolitik. You needed to hang him upside down to lecture him on realpolitik, because?"

The princess smiled proudly. "I had the most novel idea for a didactic technique! The student receives more blood flow to the brain and the distress stimulates the mind. Torture is proven to stimulate memory recollection so it must work just as well the other way around. Observe!"

With no warning the princess whipped Embalmer's ribs with the riding crop.

Embalmer winced, his shirt had taken the worst of the sting, but he was quick to repeat what she had last read to him. "Uff. Fear of political reform must be sown among the most affluent members of society to discourage unconventional social climbing!"

Now grinning boastfully the princess plucked one of the grapes from the bowl, "And following the compatible principle of the carrot and the stick I reward his right answers!" Embalmer opened his mouth wide and the princess dropped the grape into the awaiting maw.

The chained man chewed quickly and swallowed. Then he offered an upside-down shrug of his shoulders, "I'm actually neutral on grapes and I lost some of that blood in a nosebleed, but I can't argue with the results."

Captain Kenner walked backwards out of the room, grabbed the edge of the door and began to close it very slowly, giving Rex the opportunity to leave the dungeon too. Kenner's tone of voice was affably courteous. "Of course, of course. Pardon the interruption. Princess Rosaline, Embal- Mister Embalmer. Carry on with your lecture."

When the door closed shut Captain Kenner crossed his arms behind his back and turned on his heel. He very meticulously started to climb the steps up towards the main floor. Rex recognized it as the kind of methodical walk a drunk uses when pretending to be sober, he wondering if he would have to keep the captain from falling backwards down the stairs.

Halfway up Kenner paused. He looked up to admire a cobweb on the ceiling, "I take it that the princess paid you to let her use the dungeon? That is how you knew where she would be." he said, still sounding affably courteous.

More animalistic growling before the bird translated Rex's words. "Full day rental and a reimbursement if I had to actually jail someone. I didn't help them with the shackling, that was her and the guy."

"Right... the guy. So you knew what was going on?"

Rex snickered and his bird didn't have to translate that sound. "Ah. Don't worry, what is going is exactly what she said."

Kenner suddenly knelt and got down to eye level with Rex. "Are you absolutely certain of that?"

The hound raised one of his paws and patted the man's shoulder. "Positive. If they were up to something the whole place would have stunk of it and I would have known. Really, you worry too much."

The man gave a strained smile. "Rex, this is a whole different scale from what would happen if it was Prince Zander and Princess Rosaline in the same situation. I have to consider making this guy disappear or submitting this in a report and expect reassignment to guarding latrines in the most remote base of the empire."

"Oh don't be so dramatic." It was now Rex who took the lead in climbing the steps, with Kenner following. "Even IF something happened between those two it would hardly be the first youthful indiscretion of a royal with a commoner. She will get over it as long as you don't play into it and turn it into one of those forbidden love situations. Then it will escalate. It is better if you keep your distance."

The pair reached the top of the stairs and paused. "But he is not a regular commoner! The guy is quite obviously some sort of mixed up hound-"

"Joe, relax. This will only turn into a problem if you actually submit a report and your superiors decide to do something preemptively. THEN you will be the one to disappear. And wouldn't that make poor Svana sad? Go on, isn't she waiting for you?"

Just being reminded of the witch was enough to reinvigorate the captain. He brushed imaginary dust from his chest plate and straightened his back. "Right. Svana has been waiting long enough with this... Silly situation. Thank you for showing me where the princess is, marshal."

Rex performed a half-assed military salute. "Oh thank you for volunteering for tomorrow's night watch, Cap." With that both men parted ways. Kenner tried to forget what he had just seen and considered how to apologize to Svana for leaving her waiting without an explanation.

At that moment Rex almost felt guilty, but his bird din't have to translate his muted snickering.

 **End of Chapter.**

Please read and review. Criticism is welcome, especially this early in the story as I try to nail the characterization.

Updates will happen as time permits and if there is interest in this story.


	4. Chapter 4 - Kidnapping

**Sinister**

This is a work of fan fiction using characters from the Latchkey Kingdom comic, which is copyrighted by Nick Daniel.

 **Chapter 4: Kidnapping**

Zander knew he had been kidnapped. He regained consciousness slowly and groggily, but he knew this instantly. He couldn't just have fallen asleep sitting down on this hard surface: he had a delicate rump. The first prince of Hilla had read what to do in this precise situation in one of the novels of 'Sir Harry Paget Flashman - Gentleman Adventurer': He didn't move and kept his eyes closed as he assessed the situation with his other senses.

He could feel the shape of a rope wrapped around his chest and to whatever he was sitting on, which kept him sitting upright. Oddly, neither his arms nor his legs seemed to be tied down, which was just shabby kidnapping. Then there were the sounds and smells. He could hear the squeaking of dungeon rats nearby and very loud chewing. And he could detect the smell of at least 11 different herbs and spices.

When he summed all up all this information there was only one possible scenario: He had been kidnapped by dungeon rats and he was about to become their meal.

Zander's eyes snapped open. The first thing he saw was a silver spoon on the table in front of him, so he quickly grabbed it to try and fend off any rats who may try to take a bite out of him. Only after a few seconds did he realize that no rats were looming over him with open jaws and freaky long buckteeth. In fact the nearest creature turned out of be Willa, sitting to his right, passively watching him flail around as she bit into a dinner roll.

Prince Zander found himself sitting at the the head of a long table in a strange dark and gloomy room, with a large feast on top the table. To his right was Willa, untied, on a similar stone chair. Down each side of the table were seats taken by dungeon rats that stared at him with blank expressions as they chewed their food. At the other end of the table, smiling serenely at him, was Princess Rosaline Lanistark. Only after a second look did he notice that the creature to her left wasn't just a very large dungeon rat, but Mister Embalmer.

Suddenly things were a lot clearer, and maybe more dangerous, but the Princess deliberately spoke before Zander could completely take measure of the situation. "Prince Zander, I am so glad you and your shieldmaiden could join us!"

Zander looked to his left, at a rat drinking soup with its muzzle submerged in the bowl, and then to his right to Willa. His best friend looked bored as she ate so that at least meant there was no immediate danger to keep her entertained. He decided to play along, "Yes, its a pleasure to be here for- what are we doing here?"

"Oh we can talk about that business later, for now we can have a nice and pleasant conversation." Rosaline kept smiling but a jerking of her shoulders betrayed how she was kicking Embalmer under the table to draw his attention. Embalmer lifted his face out of his bowl of soup, his muzzle dripping from where he had submerged it, and glanced around. More kicking and pointed looks from the princess were required before the gray man remembered what he was supposed to do. "Hi Willa and Zander! Quite the weather we are having, isn't it?"

Willa raised her hands and shook them in a way that made it clear she was not getting involved with the situation. That left it all on Zander's lap. "Yes, Hi. The weather. I think it was quite sunny... before I was dragged here."

At the other end of the table Rosaline whispered something to Embalmer and the henchman winked before turning his attention back to Zander, "Who do you think will win this year's Angelonian Regatta?"

The sudden shift gave Zander some pause, "Sorry, what? The Regatta?"

"The Regatta!" the other man confirmed loudly.

"You," Zander used the spoon he still clutched to point at Embalmer, "care about the regatta? But nobody here ever wants to talk about- err. Well this year the cup can be a toss up between Duke Juan Manuel Fangio with his new double-bow ship and Alberto Ascari with his more experienced crew."

Embalmer bobbed his head slowly, "So Duke Juan has a good chance to win with his new boat?"

"Oh yes!" the prince raised used his spoon to imitate an imaginary ship, "his idea is to use multiple bows to reduce water resistance and channeling the resulting wave down towards the engine's point of maximum magnetic torque."

The gray man kept nodding, "Interesting, interesting. Lots of magnetics at work. What about the other guy?"

His apprehension forgotten, the prince spoke with a lot of enthusiasm. "Alberto Ascari has a much older traditional ship but he runs a shipping fleet year-round. He has a team of the most experienced seamen with him. Do you know Stirling Moss, the champion of the Polar Race?"

Embalmer snapped his fingers, "The polar race champion, of course!"

"Well Moss is now helmsman for Ascari so that gives him the edge on experience even if his boat is lagging behind in technology."

The henchman pointed to Zander with both index fingers. "Ah, But what do you really think is going to happen?"

Zander tappped the table with his spoon as he considered the question, "Well, it is risky to test new technology in a race so I would have to go with-" Suddenly the strident sound of Rosaline's laughter interrupted the conversation.

Everyone, even the rats, looked at the Princess as she failed to quell her guffaws. She laughed so hard and fast she started to hiccup, so Embalmer promptly offered her his bowl of soup to drink. She waved it down and just patted his arm as she managed to get her chuckling to a more lady-like level. "Oh, Embalmer, that was a wonderful performance!"

The gray henchman looked more joyful than he did at any point during the conversation about the regatta. "It worked just like you said it would!"

"What-" Zander's brow furrowed, "What performance? Were you making fun of me?"

The princess looked at Zander with half-lidded eyes and spoke with a honeyed tone, "Of course not, Zander. We would never do that! I was merely pleased by how well I taught Embalmer the techniques he requires for polite chatter in any situation. Why, what would you say is his level of knowledge about the regatta?"

The prince had to consider the question for a moment. His initial impression was that Embalmer seemed uncharacteristically knowledgeable about the boat races, but as he reviewed the conversation knowing there was some kind of trick he realized something important, "Hey, he was just repeating what I was saying!"

Embalmer nodded emphatically and pointed towards his own head with his thumbs, "And nodding! Rosaline said nodding is just as important!"

The prince turned to his best friend for her reaction, but Willa instead pretended that the wedge of cheese in her hands was the most interesting thing in the world and avoided looking at him. Something about that also felt amiss. Zander sighed, "Alright, I think I get it. But you could have asked us for help, you didn't have to send Embalmer out to kidnap me and Willa."

Willa cleared her throat and finally faced him with a sullen look, "I snaked you."

"Alright, now I'm confused." the prince finally dropped his spoon. "Why did you snake me?"

His best friend looked positively guilty, "Because if I didn't get you here unaware she was going to have _him_ do it when I wasn't around." Her voice made it clear she considered that a much worse alternative.

The prince looked to Embalmer and Rosaline. The gray man was currently trying to show the princess some kind of balancing trick involving the tip of his finger and a sharp steak knife; it wasn't going well but neither seemed to mind. Zander turned back to Willa. "Hmm, yeah, I see your point. So why am I tied to the chair?"

Relieved that he was taking her wrongdoing lightly, Willa smiled. "To keep you from falling into your soup." She didn't mention that some of the rats had given him a few hungry looks and the ropes were also there to keep him from being stolen.

"Alright, so," Zander grabbed a dinner roll and lowered his voice to a whisper, "What is Rosaline planning?"

Willa shrugged, blew a silent raspberry and twirled her finger around her head.

Zander barely avoided choking on his bread, but he had to agree. Princess Rosaline was full of wonderful qualities and one of the most cunning yumans he knew; however she had a huge blindspot for Mister Embalmer's many faults and dangers, while he supported her most hostile ideas with glee. Whatever this dinner and fake chit-chat was for, just couldn't be entirely levelheaded.

Still, the situation wasn't terrible. There were at least 4 rats between himself and Embalmer in case he got any violent ideas, and Willa was by his side. The food at the table wasn't bad either: Onion soup, bread, cold cuts and random fruits. The princess had yet to touch any of the food, but looked from the right angle, with him and Rosaline at both ends of the table, he could even consider this a nice romantic dinner. A date with one friendly chaperone and one third wheel. Never-mind that if it was like one of those wagon wheels with blades to chop up enemies.

The prince cradled the bread in his hand as if he was holding a cup of wine and tried to speak with a suave tone of voice, full of pauses in his speech, "So, Princesss Rosaaaline... You didn't... organize... a whole dinner... just for me to... quick chaaaaat... with Embalmer. "

Both Willa and Rosaline looked at him with pity, thinking he was slurring his voice as a symptom of the snake's venom. "Of course," Rosaline responded, "there are certainly other reasons we needed you."

Zander dropped the suave tone, "Is that the royal 'we' or do you mean that you and..."

"Mister Embalmer, of course!" the princess completed his sentence enthusiastically and waved towards the subject of their discussion, "I have been refining Mister Embalmer's bearing to improve his social camouflage but I think you can complement my teaching in areas where I have been chauvinistically excluded. I would like you to teach him how to behave as highborn gentlemen do among themselves in your private smoke rooms and play rooms. Any and all secret society handshakes you have been taught as the king's first son."

As Rosaline explained her request all expectations of being able to see this as a romantic dinner disappeared. Rather than gaze into the princess' eyes romantically like he would have wanted, the prince instead made eye contact with Embalmer. If the eyes were the windows to the soul then there sure was a lot of room for knowledge in there. Or the windows had been painted over. "Well, first, why is it that you are trying to do this? Embalmer seems to do just fine in every gloomy locale where he pops up- no offense, Embalmer."

"I get around," said the gray man unashamedly, "but Rosaline wants me to get ready for grander projects!"

A bit of dread settled in Zander's stomach. "What kind of projects are we talking about?"

"Tsk-tsk," the princess smiled enigmatically, "Zander, I don't think you want to be privy to all the details. Keep a plausible deniability."

"Sure," Zander returned an uncomfortable smile, "I can do denial. But I have some bad news. Unless my dad is a master spy that has hidden every trace, I don't think he belongs to any secret societies. He has drinking buddies and private social events, but I know nothing about what goes on in them. There's nothing I could teach Embalmer besides some manners and the hand gestures my dad uses to invite his friends for a drink." the prince raised his left hand and made a gesture as if he was pouring an imaginary bottle.

Rosaline sighed dramatically, "Really, Zander? The good duke isn't even 'A fellow' of the Carpenter Society? A brother in the Guild of Promissory Charity? A Neuron of Amygdala?"

"I don't recognize any of those names, so I'm going to say... No?"

The princess slammed her fist on the table, everyone but Willa jerked back in their seats. "Damn this town! How am I supposed to make him presentable to the rest of the court if I have no resources available! It is like trying to squeeze blood out of-"

"Hey, It's alright," said Embalmer, and to the absolute surprise of everyone else he patted the Rosaline's head three times before withdrawing his hand, "I'm great with improv acting, remember? And you are a great teacher! We will figure it out!"

Her rant suddenly disrupted the princess had to take a moment to compose herself. Zander quite liked the blush she had right after her embarrassing outburst. The princess grinned, "Yes, and you are a great student. I'm sure we can figure something out. After all, if all else fails we can..."

Both Embalmer and Rosaline finished the sentence as if they had practiced it before, "Leave no witnesses!" the two shared a chuckle while Willa and Zander just shared troubled looks.

The prince finally intruded on the moment. "Well if you need help in any way, be sure that me and Willa can lend a hand."

The adventurer at his side was about ready to hiss as what she saw as a betrayal, being volunteered for a crazy scheme, but then she remembered how she had dragged Zander here. And she hadn't been forthright in telling him that -technically- she had been paid by Rosaline to kidnap him. Instead she closed her eyes and nodded. Friendship was a two way street.

Princess Rosaline clapped her hands once. "Oh, wonderful! I do have some preparations and training that would require some volunteers. Ah, and I should clarify something about this dinner."

Zander looked down at the food he had been casually eating through the meeting, "Oh no. Embalmer prepared it, didn't he? Do we have to ask Svana for anti-venom?"

"No no. I know you have a delicate palate and can't handle poison as a spice. You haven't acquired the taste for it. No, Embalmer didn't prepare this food. In fact I didn't arrange any catering for this meeting." The golden haired girl pointed to the rats. "After regularly using this place to meet Mister Embalmer for his lessons the rats started inviting themselves and using the empty seats. They do provide some useful ambiance for the social dinner simulacrum, and they bring their own food. I assume it is pilfered from the town, but I had no intention of eating food from parts unknown."

The prince looked all around the table. Everyone kept eating undisturbed: The rats squeaked socially as they munched, Willa was back to chewing lazily in boredom, and Embalmer had submerged his muzzle back into his bowl of soup. The plate in front of Rosaline remained pristine, she had not taken one bite.

Zander looked down at the bits of half eaten food in his own plate. With a shrug he popped a bit more bread into his mouth. "Dungeon food IS an acquired taste too."

 **End of Chapter.**

Please read and review. Criticism is welcome.

Updates will happen as time permits and if there is interest in this story.


	5. Chapter 5 - Racket

**Sinister**

This is a work of fan fiction using characters from the Latchkey Kingdom comic, which is copyrighted by Nick Daniel.

Special thanks to JorpDorp for beta-reading, providing suggestions and editing.

 **Chapter 5: Racket**

Whenever Princess Rosaline required the services of Mister Embalmer she always started by checking if he was currently incarcerated in the Castle's dungeon. If he hadn't been arrested for anything yet then she set the small signal they had agreed to outside her window, a curtain tied into a hangman's noose, and waited. If he wasn't actively involved in some misdeed then the henchman would promptly find his way into the castle and knock on the door to Rosaline's chambers.

This day Rosaline had set out that signal in the morning and by noon he was at her door, helping himself to a jar of pickled onions he had pilfered from the castle's kitchen along the way. The task she had for him today was quite simple and time-sensitive, so she had expected him to get on with it and be on his way right after giving him a fistful of cash and instructions to pick up a package for her.

Instead he pocketed the money and just stood there, trying to fish cocktail onions out of the jar. Rosaline valued her great reserves of patience as one of her many virtues, however it came second to what she saw as her ease in commanding others. She waited until he had successfully speared one of the tiny onions with his claw before she spoke, "I'm sorry, Mister Embalmer, was there perhaps something unclear about this favour I'm asking of you?"

The henchman sucked on the onion as if it was a sweet candy. "No, I got it. Go to the bookstore and pick a package for 'Miss Mariel Shelley'. I just have to wait until they're closed to break in and get it."

"Ah." the princess smiled and tapped the man's cheek with a few playful slaps that were a bit too firm. "While I'm sure that is much more entertaining for you, and under most circumstances I wouldn't mind you circumventing the purchase, I would prefer we don't bring any suspicion onto 'Miss Shelley'. Just pay for the package the regular way."

Embalmer shook his head and spoke while still munching on a mouthful of onions, "I shcant. I'mm branned from therr."

Rosaline's smile was quickly replaced by a mystified expression."You are banned from the book store?" said the princess as she used her index finger to push the jar down and away from Embalmer to command his full attention, "How did you get banned from a book store?"

With one big gulp the man swallowed his morsels. "I don't exactly remember. Fire, maybe? It's hard to keep track of the places I've been banned from. It is easier to just break in at night when I have to shop."

The princess said nothing for a while, and stared at Embalmer with a stoic expression which even he found uncomfortable. She then gently took the jar from his hands and closed it decisively. "No, that won't do at all. I can't have a left-hand man that can't publicly go wherever he wants. Those bans are going to be lifted."

The princess then turned and marched into her room. The henchman instantly followed, a big toothy grin forming on his face, attuned to when Rosaline had a plan. "So what are we doing? Should I get some ropes? Snakes? Incendiary bombs?"

Rosaline responded, and there was a spark of playful pride in her tone that confirmed she had an interesting idea to try out. "I will be providing the props, Mister Embalmer, there is no need to resort to arson just yet. You just have to do as I say."

* * *

The sight of Embalmer's bloodied cloak was enough to inspire unease in complete strangers, and for many who had to deal with him in the past the reaction was instantaneous alarm. Such was the reaction of the baker when he turned around and saw that cloak among the small crowd of customers in his store.

The baker started to move his hand towards his favorite rolling pin but stopped when he noticed the much more welcomed sight of a massive glinting gold chain around the henchman's neck. Each polished link in the chain was at least an inch wide.

Caution and greed were weighed against each other. Adding to the discordant combination between his rags and the gold was that the henchman had somehow gained a larger hunchback under his bloody cloak. Succumbing to greed and curiosity, the baker decided to not kick out the odd customer just yet.

The baker presented his best -forced- smile, "Good afternoon, Sir. How can I help you today?"

The henchman's ears twitched back, towards his new humpback, and even across the counter the baker could hear whispering originating from it. When that whispering quieted down gray man spoke very effusively, "Good day, my good man! I am here to settle the small misunderstanding in our last dealings!" Embalmer pulled out a large money clip from his pocket and carelessly slapped a large stack of Hill bank notes onto the counter. This gave the shop owner ample time to see that his new favorite client had his wrists adorned by mismatched bejeweled bracelets. The baker was no stranger to adventurers suddenly making it big and then squandering their fortune just as quickly.

The baker's smile was now wholly genuine as he quickly shoved the cash into his register. "Oh, bah! Mister, you should know I was just kidding when I kicked you out! I just had to refill those pastries and they were good as new to sell! You and your coin are always welcome!"

Embalmer ignored the baker's words, his ears were once again directed to his hump. Once new instructions were relayed, he spoke again, gesticulating his bejeweled hands with amicable fervor. "I forgive you for the misunderstanding, of course. Actually, my good man, I was hoping we could discuss catering services."

"Why, I am always available for events! What kind of merry reunion are you planning?" said the baker, leaning forward and disregarding the rest of the customers waiting for his attention.

"Excellent!" the gray man leaned forward too, lowering his voice so only the baker could hear him. "Now, what I am about to tell you should be kept a secret but-"

* * *

Embalmer had to escape the bakery for a second time. Not because he was being chased by the baker like the first time, but because the same shop keeper wouldn't stop acting like Embalmer was his new best friend. Even the endless supply of free samples he was given to taste had lost their appeal after the fifth kick to the ribs he had received from the princess.

With a bag of baked treats on hand, he walked briskly away until he was out of the still-waving baker's sight. The henchman then strode into a side street, and not really caring about who could see it, knelt to let the princess down. She slid down from his back and immediately started running her fingers through her hair to make sure it was restored to its rightful order and volume. Only when she was satisfied did she address her mount. She stomped her foot down and pointed at Embalmer. "Surprise review! Question one: How do you approach someone that doesn't want your company?"

Startled, the henchman had to discard the first answer that occurred to him and focused on exactly what she had told him as they prepared for this plan. He waved his hands in front of his face, making the borrowed jewelry jangle and shine. "With temptation!"

"Good," said the princess, then she used two fingers to point at him. "Question two: How do you make them forget any past transgressions?"

The henchman patted the large stack of banknotes in his pocket. "Bribery!"

"Well done!" she walked closer and raised three fingers right in front of his eyes "Question three: How do you gain their trust?"

"You let them in on a secret!" the henchman winked "Even if you have to invent one!"

"Perfects responses!" pleased with both his answers and her coaching, the princess rewarded her student by vigorously scratching under his jaw with both hands. The gray man leaned into her touch, exposing his neck to let her rake her manicured nails through his fur.

Rosaline never had a servant who did what she wanted so willingly and could be repaid with such a small, worthless, prize. She would keep gold in his pocket to cover his needs, but she had learned that the henchman was most satisfied with a fun task and her praise. She liked handing out orders, was pleased by obedience, but it was much more gratifying to find somebody that actually enjoyed following her more dynamic plans. And when he didn't obey, when he acted a bit too wild, that just made reining him in more interesting.

It wasn't until Embalmer exhaled a low canine whine of joy that the princes realized she had lost track of time and that she had been petting him for longer than was civil. She stopped at once, snatched the bag of baked treats from Embalmer's hands and turned on her heel, walking away. She pretended not to notice the passerby Hillians who were themselves pretending they weren't staring at the duo. Embalmer followed her instantly as if tied to an invisible leash. One of those passing witnesses started to follow them from afar.

The bakery had been the fourth store they had dealt with that afternoon. Rosaline was confident they could have pulled off the same fake-hunchback plan in the bookstore as well, but she decided to send her well-trained pupil into the store on his own. She was sure her lesson had taken hold, and she really could not afford being discovered getting the package herself. That would require eliminating too many witnesses. And if he failed, it would all be a learning opportunity and there were many more tutelage techniques she was eager to try.

With a pat of encouragement on his back and pointing at the store with a ramrod-straight arm, she sent him on his lonesome into the bookstore while she waited across the street. Before he entered the store Embalmer turned to candidly wave and flash two thumbs up.

Left with nothing to do, the princess assumed a regal posture with her head held high, sneering at the sky. A well practiced demeanor that announced to all the commoners that she was busy thinking of important matters and she was not be disturbed by their likes, even out here in public. It worked remarkably well, for the most part, sending pedestrians on a wide berth to avoid her. Two brave souls approached her, but before they could speak she gave them a sideways glance that reminded them they should mind their own business elsewhere entirely.

Her patience was tested again as she waited there on the street, ultimately partaking of the baked treats when she grew hungry. It was hard, but she managed to keep her regal sneering while eating the muffins. Commoners hurried about as the daylight faded, with the orange glow of dusk reflecting off the street windows, illuminating the ceremonial rite of the night-drunks gradually replacing the day-drunks.

Left idling and bored, she contemplated and organized a thousand-and-one plans and ideas she was concocting. Most were haphazard flights of fancy, fantasies, but there were important real elements to all of them. And before she had to reschedule or modify her more immediate plans, she finally saw her henchman walk out of the bookstore and cross the street towards her. The man was beaming as he carried not just one package but two small parcels wrapped in brown paper under his arm.

"Well done, Mister Embalmer," Rosaline extended her hand and Embalmer promptly passed on one of the packages to her. "What delayed you?"

The gray man with the bloody cloak patted the package he still held. "Shopping! Once they were okay with me being there they helped me find some stuff I wanted."

Rosaline held back on delivering a tongue lashing at how he had made her wait while he shopped. She knew it would have been counter productive to punish him right after he had accomplished something for her. It was better to wait and punish him at a later time for seemingly no reason. Instead she pinched her package to tear a small hole in the wrapping paper, just enough to read the book's spine and confirm it was the one she had ordered under an alias. She read the golden letters: 'Heart of Mutiny III' now she had to hold back a squeal of joy. When she got back to her rooms she would spend the night reading to finally find out if Captain Isolde and Knight Tristan would finally get together as they obviously should have after she rescued him from the jaws of The Tritalodon in the first book.

But alas, she first had to deal with her present company and make it back to the castle. With no warning she linked her arm with Embalmer's. The blindsided henchman half-stumbled when she started walking and pulling him along, but he quickly recovered physically. Mentally he was trailing behind a lot more steps than usual.

Half a block away the stranger who had been keeping watch on the princess resumed following the pair anew. The man was tall and well built, his battered light armor and the sword hanging from his belt proving he was one of the hundreds of fighters eking out a living through violence in Hilla. He had never before tried stalking out yumans, but spotting and tracking the princess had been ridiculously easy. More so when she accompanied with the gray mutt with a golden collar.

As the fighter followed them he saw her whisper something to her companion that made his tail wag excitedly. When she made them stop at the entrance of a dark alley the fighter was worried he was going to witness something even more indecent than their public petting. Instead the henchman passed to the girl almost all the valuables he was carrying. He took off the dangling golden chains from his wrists and she put them on as the golden collars they were actually meant to be. He passed on all the large bank notes he was carrying and loaded her arms with all the packages too. He made a motion of taking off his golden collar but the girl said something that made the gray mutt stop and wag his tail again. They exchanged a few more words the fighter was too far away to hear before the princess turned to walk into the alley as the henchman departed to walk along the street proper.

Once the gray mutt was far away the fighter hurried his step to follow the princess into the alley, he couldn't afford to lose sight of her now. It was so dark that his eyes had to adjust before he could see her, but when she came into focus he realized she wasn't as far away as he had expected. She had also turned to face his end of the alley and she was smiling cruelly and directly at him. Before he had a second to consider the situation, a glint of gold passed over his head before a golden chain was pulled hard against his neck. A gleeful chuckle behind him told the fighter that the henchman had backtracked to sneak behind and was using his golden chain to choke him.

The links of the chain bit into his neck and made breathing impossible. His first reaction was to claw at the grip of his assailant, but all he could reach were the bandaged forearms of the other man. At some point the princess began to say something, but in his panic the fighter couldn't understand what she was saying. He tried to reach for his sword but the henchman pulled harder, bending him backwards. Instead he used a moment of clarity to reach for the dagger hidden in his sleeve.

Princess Rosaline was delighted. This ruffian had been spying on her for hours but she had expertly baited him into a trap with her money and gold. Now Embalmer was going to render him unconscious so he could be handled by the Marshal while she went on to read her new book. Of course first she was going to rub her victory in his face. She started insulting his pathetic attempts at trailing them, as if she was unfamiliar with stalkers and paparazzi. And was going to degrade his entire existence while he was still awake until a cry of pain interrupted her.

The fighter had blindly stabbed backwards over his shoulder. His first slash had scratched Embalmer's arms, but the henchman had not loosened his grip. His second slash reached Embalmer's face and the other man cried in pain. The chain slacked just enough to let the fighter breathe in one gasp of fresh air. His regained clarity allowed him to admire the beauty of all the golden chains wrapped around the small fist that was about to hit him.

* * *

Marshal Rex Vunderdog locked the dungeon cell and stared at the sorry mess inside. The new prisoner had suffered a terrible beating. His face was a swollen mess and he was holding his left side in obvious pain. Nothing looked fatal, but under different circumstances he would have summoned a doctor to treat him already.

Rex turned around towards the waiting princess and her henchman, and had to revise that: not a beating, but a terrible kicking. The once-shiny shoes of the princess were scrapped and one tip was starting to split open. Probably the only reason she had eventually stopped kicking the poor bastard.

Rex and Woodstock, his babble finch, sighed. "So this man attacked you while you were on your way back to the castle?"

Rosaline sneered. "Attacked? This hoodlum ambushed us and attempted to assassinate me. If not for my quick reflexes and the valiant efforts of Mister Embalmer here that man could very well have succeeded!"

The hound hated being awoken for stupid reasons, but he hated being awoken for serious reasons doubly so. As he mentally reviewed the story he had just heard from the shiny brat he wasn't sure yet if the tale was stupid or serious, especially considering the evidence. For her part the only injuries the princess was sporting, other than the damage to her shoes, were split knuckles on her hand. The gray henchman was holding a laced handkerchief stained red against the side of his snout but looked no worse than usual.

Rex nodded, "Right, so let me just make sure I get the picture right. You two were in this dark alley, on the way to the castle."

The princess rolled her eyes. "Yes, after dealing with personal business in your town."

"Right, right. Shopping, is that right? Fair enough. Just so we're clear on this, this man jumped out of the shadows to stab you but instead his dagger struck Embalmer?"

"And nearly blinded him!" Rosaline looked at Embalmer pityingly and there was clear regret in her voice. "You poor thing, we will get you mended as soon as we are done here." and suddenly her voice was dripping venom as she stared at the man in the cell. "Hanging is too good for the likes of his brigand, I want him mellified and fed to dolphins."

Rex had no idea what mellified meant, but he could read between the lines well enough to know he wasn't being paid enough to do that. He was paid enough to notice that it would take incredibly bad aim to miss the princess and instead stab the henchman's face. "I'm sure you do, but if that's how you want to proceed-"

"Of course it is!"

"If a public execution is how you want to do things we would have to involve Chancellor Stonegrave to fill in all the proper-"

The princess stomped her foot down. "So summon him!"

"-all the proper paperwork. In which case we would need a public record exactly as to what your highness was doing at night with a friend in a dark alley. Rather than, say, just walking on any of the public streets that would have taken her to the castle just as easily."

The princess' eyes snapped towards Rex. She had a ridiculous blush on her face, but he didn't like the cold calculation in her eyes. Her voice was humorless. "What are you implying, Vunderdog?"

"What I am suggesting," the bird's translation was casual and placating, "is that you let me take care of this under the table, unofficially. We don't involve Stonegrave or Kenny in this. We make the whole issue disappear."

For a long time the princess said nothing, she stared at the marshal as she weighed her options. Finally she turned towards Embalmer and motioned for him to bend down. "Let me have back my belt."

Without a word the gray man lowered his head to let her take the golden chain he had been wearing as a collar. She was careful not to disturb the arm that was holding her handkerchief against his injury. Once she had unlatched the chain she held it aloft for a moment before carelessly dropping the chain on the floor, discarding it as if it was worthless. She did so staring at Rex with those cold calculating eyes again. "Just make it slow and painful." She turned towards the door of the dungeon. "Come, Embalmer, we will wake Miss Blackheart to deal with your injury."

Rex barked once and Woodstock quickly translated that into a command. "Wait!"

The princess paused and observed as Rex moved first picking up the gold chain and then approached Mister Embalmer. Now it was Rex who motioned for Embalmer to bend down. "Let me see that cut."

The gray man lowered his head even lower and moved the handkerchief away from his face, exposing the damage to the hound. The marshal examined the injury, sniffed it twice, and nodded satisfied. "Well that's probably going to add a mark to your hide, but you won't be needing Svana for that. Which is good as I believe she's out gathering 'midnight blooming mushrooms' with Kenny tonight." Rex then headed towards Rosaline and held up her belt. "You dropped this. For the record, I am not so scummy that I would let this go unless I had a bribe."

The princess curtsied as she was handed back the belt. In a good mood again, she replied. "Of course. You are un homme d'honneur, Marshal." She shot the man in the cell one last disdainful look before turning to walk out, Embalmer in tow. "No need for a surgeon, then. I'll deal with your injury, Mister Embalmer."

Rex waited until their steps sounded far away before returning his attention to the man in his cell. He turned to find that his prisoner was holding his Criminal Pass with shaky hands. Both the hound and his bird shook their heads, and the bird managed to sound deathly serious in its translation of Rex's barks. "Tim, you could not find enough stars in the sky to get a pass on the crimes the brat says you attempted." the prisoner lowered the paper slowly, as if resigned to a horrible fat, but Rex continued, "But I know for a fact she is an awful hellion, and that you're an idiot. So tell me a truthful version of events that doesn't end with you in a shallow grave by dawn, and keep it short."

Seeing a ray of hope the prisoner moistened his swollen and cut lips, "It is all cause this fancy dandy visited The Happy Rat saying he needed extra eyes."

* * *

Back in her chambers Rosaline reviewed the materials of her first aid kit and found them adequate. The medicines and tools in that black leather surgeon's bag would have allowed a skilled doctor to treat an entire regiment, but so far she had only ever used them for minor cuts and scrapes. When she looked up from the bag she saw that Embalmer was preoccupied with staring at himself in her full length mirror. He had left his own package from the bookstore on the carpet near the mirror and his hood was pulled back, baring his head. He had also exposed the cut and was licking the gash on his face with a tongue that somehow managed to reach all the way around his snout.

The princess admired this display for a moment before remembering she was the one that was going to deal with that cut. Looking around, she considered where to actually sit down to perform the operation. She quickly discarded the idea of using her bed and decided to use her writing desk, sitting down on her chair and placing the bag on the desk to her left. She quickly snapped on surgical gloves a size too big. "Come now, Mister Embalmer, saliva is a decent antiseptic for trenches but I can deal with that much better."

Embalmer gave the gash one last lick before he obeyed and approached Rosaline. He looked about but didn't see any other chairs he could use. "Where do I sit?"

The princess raised one of her carefully kept eyebrows and pointed at the floor in front of her, "Kneel."

At once the man dropped to his knees heavily, but he kept going downward until his head came to rest on the lap of the princess. Wholly unprepared, only the sight of those fog-white eyes looking up at her and the sight of that nasty cut kept her from kicking him away in surprise. She let it be, not really aware that her own cheeks were now bright with a blush. She spoke in part to distract herself, "Well- You must know I hold honorary medical degrees from all three of the most well regarded medical institutions in all of Lagend, but you will be honored to be my first actual patient."

Wasting no time the princess' fingers prodded the fur near the cut. Embalmer's licking had ruffled his wet fur so she had to comb it back with the tips of her fingers, but she wasn't hindered by any squeamishness. Soon she had parted the fur and exposed the two sides of the slice. The licking had effectively cleaned up the blood from the fur and removed any dirty that could have entered the wound other than a few stray hairs. Even with Rosaline's inexperienced poking of the wound Embalmer spoke relaxed and at ease. "I usually just lick and glue it shut. Mom taught me that you can use glue for small cuts, but it works for medium ones too."

Done with her examination, Rosaline removed a bottle and some white cotton pads from her bag. "Your health must be excellent, Mister Embalmer. But you are in my employ now, what kind of careless owner would I be if I didn't see to your medical needs?"

Embalmer's brow furrowed. "What do you mean by a careless-?" the girl quickly interrupted his question by pressing a cotton pad soaked in iodine against his cut. Embalmer cried out in pain and tried to pull away from her, but she pressed her free hand against the top of his head and held him down firmly. She was thankful his struggle wasn't so severe she had to lock her legs around his neck. Once she was sure he was going to stay in place, Rosaline relaxed her pressure and began to scratch and pet his head with her free hand as she applied the iodine with the other.

She rarely had an opportunity to run her hands over the fur on top of his head, his hood and height hindered that, so she took advantage to let her fingers roam. Even with her surgical gloves on she was amazed at the quantity of scars she could feel were hidden under his fur. However she found it dissatisfying, the gloves numbed the feeling too much, so once she was done applying the iodine she followed a whim and discarded her gloves. She rationalized it to herself as requiring her full dexterity for the next steps of the treatment.

Rosaline was no coward and had earned her own small scars, however she had never acquired any as dramatic as some of Embalmer's own injuries. Even if she closed her eyes she could still easily find the cross-shaped scar on top of his muzzle. First by the shorter and softer fur that grew on top of it, like velvet, and then by the angry indentation on the flesh underneath. Suddenly she was struck by the idea that if she mishandled his new injury, it would add one more mark to his tally. One explicitly associated to her.

Before she could imagine how that would look, the fluttering of his ears demanded her attention. They started moving rapidly, with no logic to their wiggling back and forth or side to side, and that's what made her notice that Embalmer's eyes had closed. What a triumph, she congratulated herself, her medical care had been so brilliant that the patient had relaxed so much he had fallen asleep on her lap. That merited a small reward, one she was sure her patient would not mind her taking.

First, a tentative poke confirmed that the ears would react in response to her touch, fluttering much liker her ponies' when they wanted to shoo away a bug. She experimented by tracing the soft fur at the base of the ears and was delighted to confirm she could direct them to swivel as she wanted. She would deny the idea she had any kind of ear jealousy, she was proud of her beautiful golden triangular ears. However there was something about the vivacious range of motion and shape of Embalmer's ears that she found cute in a different way.

She had her fill of play time with his ears, giggling when they tickled the pads of her hands, until she decided the next step of her medical care had been delayed too much. She tugged on his ears with more force until his eyelids opened languidly. Her voice was tender, all the better to not scare him of what came next. "Turn your head a little, I need to close that wound now."

Embalmer sighed tiredly and did as he was told, rotating his head until it laid sideways on her lap. She caressed his brow, doing her best to keep him from seeing her other hand reach for a needle and surgical thread for as long as possible. She prepared to seize him with her legs if he tried to flee, but she needed both hands to prepare the thread and close the wound. When she uncovered his eyes she expected a moment of fear upon seeing the needle, but instead he just blinked disinterestedly. Then he barely moved as she pinched shut his wound and started suturing it closed.

His impassivity made her work easy, even if sewing had never been one of her favorite subjects from among the many she had been dutifully been tutored in. She finished the stitching by tying the thread with a knot and admired her work. "Marvelous! With my wonderful skills you may just miss out on another mark for your collection of scars, Mister Embalmer!"

The henchman shrugged his shoulders and turned his head, getting more comfortable with his jaw resting on her lap. "That's alright, I'm sure I'll get better cuts soon." His eyes closed again.

The princess waited for Mister Embalmer to raise and get off her, but he was evidently in no rush. He was tired but so was she, it was late and their day had been long. She cleared her throat. "Mister Embalmer, move now. I have to take care of my hand."

The gray man's eyes flew open. "Right, from the punch!" His head finally left her lap, but he remained kneeling before her. He carefully grabbed the tip of the fingers of her injured hand and examined her knuckles.

Rosaline wasn't concerned by her own injury, damaging her knuckles as part and parcel of delivering a good strike. She was about to tell Embalmer that she didn't need his help, and that it was time for him to depart, when his tongue flicked across her injured knuckles. She froze. He started licking her as if was the most normal thing to do.

A very shrill voice in the back of her mind, the manifestation of hours of tutoring on manners and royal behavior, demanded she immediately slap him away to stop the disgusting feeling of his slimy tongue sliding across her fur. She ignored that voice. Instead it was her turn to be impassive as she observed and felt the fleshy warm touch of his wet tongue. She didn't mind the sting as his ministrations ruffled the fur and skin near her injuries, the whole experience was bizarre but fascinating. He wasn't doing it carelessly or wildly as an animal would, his tongue was distinctly targeting only her injury.

As royalty she was used to having a courteous kiss placed on her hand as a greeting, but never before had she experienced something that felt so submissive to her. So much like pure worship. And yet, she realized, so brutish too. Suddenly her hand turned and seized Embalmer's tongue in her grip. The henchman made a choking gargling sound as he gawked at Rosaline. She met his panicked eyes with steely coldness. The fleshy muscle was warm and slimy, but her grip was so firm she could feel his rapid pulse. She released her grip slowly, just enough to let the tongue withdraw a bit, before she seized it again. His panic subsided, but she was sure the lesson would stick: She was in control.

She kept unblinking eye contact as she finally addressed him. "Mister Embalmer, I must thank you for your assistance today, in everything you have done. I want you to know I truly appreciate you. However-" she squeezed his tongue just enough to make him narrow his eyes in pain, "you are not to take the liberty of just slobbering all over me without permission. Am. I. Clear?"

The gray man did not try to speak, he just slowly nodded his understanding. Suddenly the princess's mood switched, she smiled sweetly as she let go of his tongue. "Good! Now I won't take any more of your time."

Embalmer jumped to his feet and saluted like a soldier. "Yes, of course! I'll be going now. Won't delay at all!" he turned on his heel and ran towards the door, quickly pulling it open, "Have a good-"

Her words made him stop. "Please wait."

Even with one foot outside the room he obeyed. He halted his escape and turned back to her. The princess was still sitting on her chair, her gaze was focused on her hand. Embalmer feared further punishment but kept still and quiet as she finally stood up and walked towards, stopping only when she was right in front of him. She used her still-wet hand to motion for him to crouch down again. He did as he was instructed and prepared his jaw to take whatever punch she wanted to make him depart with.

Instead Rosaline wrapped her arms around his neck in a tender hug. "Really, Embalmer, please take care of yourself out there. Be mindful of your stitches and come back tomorrow so I can take examine your injury, please?"

Confused and feeling like he was missing something vital, Embalmer merely nodded again with his head over her shoulder. The princess gave his long ears one last gentle tug before withdrawing her arms. Now it was her who moved quickly, for she planted a surprise kiss on the crossed-scars of his snout before he could stand up. "Haveagoodnight!" She said just as quickly before shoving him out the room with her closing of the door.

With her back against the door Princess Rosaline examined her hand again. It was a mess. Not the injury, which was barely of note as far as she was concerned. Her fur was disheveled, wet from the licking and her manhandling of Embalmer's tongue. She could see some of his gray fur mixed in with her gold and white. Nonetheless no blood stained her hand, Embalmer had been very meticulous in his improvised clean-up.

The smell was the most absurd part. It was an discordant mix between the pungency of onions, the iron richness of blood, and the sweetness of bakery goods. Rubbing her finger and thumb together she could stretch out a strand of his slimy saliva between her digits. That shrill voice in the back of her head again demanded she clean her hands immediately, preferably with boiling water. That she should burn her dress that was still warm where he had rested his head. It was all so astonishingly disgusting and brutish.

She smiled and licked her knuckles.

 **End of Chapter.**

Please read and review. Criticism is welcome, especially this early in the story as I try to nail the characterization.

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